friendships
by lord yuuri
Summary: They are all childhood friends and Sylvain loves them dearly. - loss, childhood memories, and the effects of death.


There's a difference between thinking about death and actually experiencing it.

Sylvain has thought about his own death many times. Some occasions, gruesomely - perhaps a spear pierces his chest, or a sword slices his neck. There's usually a lot of blood involved - dribbling from his mouth, oozing from his ears, spilling from his now-opened chest cavity. Once, he made the mistake of describing his imaginings of his own death to Dimitri, and Sylvain nearly added a new way of dying to his list: death by hug, courtesy of a worried Dimitri.

On other occasions, they are mostly natural. An unfortunate illness, Sothis taking him away in his sleep. Old age is a common, tame thought for him. He assumed that death would be how his promise with Felix would be fulfilled: two hardheaded idiots, frail and gray, dying on the same day, at the same hour, down to the same second. Funeral processions would be held. Dimitri and Ingrid would be there, grief-stricken, remembering their friends' antics fondly. Sylvain hopes that they are there; they better be. Dimitri has no right dying before any of them, not when he's supposed to lead everyone to peace and prosperity, and losing Ingrid was simply inconceivable.

But promises have a tendency to be broken, and the quartet became a trio, and the Fraldarius line is now no more. Sylvain supposes the promise itself was unrealistic, but he still kept onto it, no matter how recklessly he fought.

In war, there is no time to properly bury the fallen. Dimitri tries to make time - "_We have to, we have to, we can't leave him"_ \- but Imperial soldiers approach without abandon and Sylvain doesn't want to lose two people in one day.

When they are in something akin to safe, he witnesses His Highness and Ingrid weep and, squeezing onto their hands, he weeps with them.

•••

When they were younger, Sylvain would often lead Dimitri and Felix to a random place that Ingrid had discovered. They would stand on either side of Sylvain, holding onto his hands saw the girl with the messy pigtails bounce with excitement, ready for them to check out whatever cool new thing piqued her interest.

Felix held onto his hand tightly, as if the moment he let go, Sylvain would leave him behind (which, granted, Sylvain had done once before but _Dad_, it was just a small joke and Dimitri went to go get him, anyway) and Dimitri would swing their arms back and forth, back and forth, sometimes making up little songs as they walked. He had the goofiest grin on his face - wide and toothy, and sometimes messy if he had been eating sweet buns beforehand.

Most times, the cool thing was a bug of some sort that Felix absolutely despised. It would always take their leader, Sylvain, to pick it up and show it off like a trophy (he didn't want to, but he was the oldest and the oldest have a reputation to uphold).

Ingrid would ooh and aah, and Felix would retch, and Dimitri would be another brave soul to inspect it and poke at it.

"Princes can't be afraid of buggies," he'd say, even though Sylvain knew he definitely afraid of the buggies, especially when he'd dangle it front of Dimitri's face, right near his mouth, and it would wiggle and squirm and Dimitri would be behind Ingrid, scowling. There would be laughter and accusations of being a meanie and screaming from Felix if Sylvain even dared to look in his direction while still holding the offending creature.

When Sylvain thinks back on those days when they were younger, when life was simple, when tragedy didn't take place and when war didn't divide them all, he wishes that they could've last forever.

•••

Time forces all to go on, to keep moving. They fight, they plan, and they fight, and they plan. Dimitri does the most, rarely resting, seldom stopping, and Sylvain brings it upon himself to take Ingrid's role and complain about how he's working himself too hard. There's an irony that Ingrid had pointed out one time, when they had time to themselves. Sylvain laughed it off at the time; but if he told he how scared he was of losing yet another friend, he'd worried her, and Sothis knows he doesn't want any of his friends to worry anymore.

There have been times where Sylvain has caught Dimitri on the training grounds, swinging the blade against a dummy's neck. The head was barely hanging on and the face unrecognizable. It's more healthy than how Dimitri was a few months ago, Sylvain figures, but there is something unsettling about the mechanical movements of Dimitri's swings. There is no energy, no signs of life.

He is tired. They all are tired.

One day, Sylvain picks up a training axe and asks His Highness to practice with him. There's a hint of surprise in Dimitri's eye, and for a moment, Sylvain thinks Dimitri would make a joke of it - "_Ah, finally taking things seriously, eh, Sylvain?"_ \- and Sylvain would playfully roll his eyes and everything would feel, for a moment, normal again.

But instead, he corners of his lips are barely turned up; it is sad, pained, and Sylvain knew it took every fiber of Dimitri's being to even do so such a gesture.

(He wonders if His Highness is capable of flashing that wide, toothy grin again.)

"He'd like this," Dimitri notes. They never say his name - if they did, they'd have to succumb to the sense of finality, and no one was quite ready for that. "He'd never say it, but he would've loved to see this."

Sylvain nods. Maybe he would've.

They practice until the goddess sprinkled stars in the night sky. Ingrid calls for them and, with one hand held within Dimitri's and the other one held in the grasp of the cold, they go to her.

•••

Enbarr is an unforgiving place.

The world is an unforgiving place.

Edelgard is just like everyone else: scared. Everyone's scared and uncertain and exhausted for the time that is close to ending. There is still uncertainty, and the Professor and Dimitri realize that, but yet they move forward as if victory is in their hands.

Sylvain wishes that he, too, could move forward.

Mistakes have been made, and Sylvain feels them in the form of blood dripping from his arm, his face, perhaps his entire body. He isn't sure.

His Highness screams for him. Ingrid screams for him. He's reminded of the time when they were young - Sylvain the age of eight, Dimitri, Ingrid, and Felix six. Sylvain was standing on the edge of a small cliff, dangling precariously purposely. Ingrid yelled at him to stop, Dimitri kept saying he'll tell on him, and Felix held onto Dimitri, crying at the possibility of little ol' Sylvain falling. He'd always laugh, telling them that he wouldn't fall, he was sure of it, don't worry, _don't worry._

This is how it goes gruesome route. Sylvain sees Dimitri run toward him, Ingrid following suit, the Professor calling out to them. No time, no time. Harsh, but Sylvain knows that she, too, is hurting and that is simply how life is.

He would've liked his final moments to be less painful, but he thinks that it's better him than his friends. There's an apology that spills from his lips, and Sylvain truly hopes that they heard it, that the blood didn't muffle how sorry he is that this is how it has to be, you all will always be my friends, I love you guys, I love you guys, I'm sorry.

Sylvain decides that, when he sees Felix again, he'll be sure to catch him up on everything he missed.

* * *

god i'm so tired that i don't even feel like capitalizing my author's notes.

i love the downward spiral that is sylvain jose gautier.

also sylvain and dima should've had a freakin' a-support like bruh. there needs to be more sylvie & dima content tbh. i remember there was this fanart on twitter of them where they were tryna to figure out how bugs can climb walls and i was immensely blessed. individually, they're so intelligent but together they share half a braincell and i love it.


End file.
